


Wonder and Awe

by ShrimpZilla



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2759873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShrimpZilla/pseuds/ShrimpZilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen realizes he has feelings for the Inquisitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonder and Awe

**Author's Note:**

> written for the dragon age kink meme

“And then Hawke said ‘Well, it looks like the duke has fallen from grace’. It was priceless. You know, she really had a gift for one liners. You should work on that, Herald.” Cullen snorted a laugh into his cup as Varric finished his story. Varric seemed to never tire of speaking about Hawke and the others seemed to never tire of listening. Cassandra especially seemed to delight in noticing inconsistencies between the various times that he had recounted the same story. While Cullen enjoyed the tales he found it hard to separate the Hawke he had known—the woman he had once watched pretending to be a dragon while she picked torn trousers up off the street—from the larger than life figure that Varric painted.  
  
“You’re going to forever be comparing me to her aren’t you?” The Herald said good-naturedly. Varric shrugged and the conversation devolved into smaller ones around them. Cullen thought it would be a perfect time to slip away. The company was fine and the mood light, but he had plenty of work he could be doing. Leliana and Josephine had insisted that he at least make an appearance and so he had. He had listened to Varric tell two stories, had even kept his mouth shut when the dwarf described Kirkwall an oasis of a city, and now it was time to go.  
  
“So, I must ask. Do you miss the Circle at all?” Solas asked the Herald. Cullen saw her bite her lip, a thing he had noticed she did when giving something a considerable amount of thought, and lift her shoulders her a hesitant shrug. He found himself thinking that he could stay a bit longer, curious as to what the young mage might say. Up until now she had stayed relatively neutral in her comments about the Circle, the Templars, and the Rebellion.  
  
“Well, yeah. I mean, the Circle was my home for years. I don’t miss the tower itself but I miss my friends. I miss the library.” She placed her elbow on the table and cradled her chin, a nostalgic grin on her face. Cullen settled in his seat, picked up his cup again even though it was nearly empty. “Oh, and every Satinalia all the mages would get a gift from the Chantry and it was always the same. These weird brown cookies—“  
  
“The chocolate ones with the jam in the center?” Cullen found himself asking. Trevelyan looked over a little surprised by his sudden addition to the conversation. She smiled and pushed herself upright so she could look at him and Solas both.  
  
“It was supposed to be jam? They gave them out to the mages at your Circle also?” She asked eagerly. Cullen laughed and leaned in more comfortably.  
  
“They gave them to the Templars as well. Horrible things. I always felt sick after eating them.”  
  
“You ate them?” She squealed in a mixture of delight and horror. Cullen shrugged.  
  
“I felt guilty otherwise.”  
  
“I used to take mine and anyone’s who would give me theirs and save them. Then throughout the year if any of my friends were having a bad day I would hide it in their stuff as a surprise.” She started laughing, barely able to get through her sentence by the pleasure she still found in the simple prank. Cullen was laughing as well, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. He rose an eyebrow at her.  
  
“Are you sure you didn’t hate your friends?”  
  
“It was a way to spend the time,” she offered as she calmed from her giggle fit. He was glad to see her relaxed and smiling. There was so much despair in front of all of them. Her especially. He supposed he understood the reason that these quiet nights were so important to some of them.  
  
“Did you often do things of that nature? Are the Circles not meant to be establishments of learning?” Solas asked though his tone was clearly amused enough by what he had heard. As an apostate Cullen doubted the man had much sympathy for Circles. Not to mention that he had become a quite skilled mage without the education that the Circle claimed could only be obtained within their walls.

 

“Oh, I studied a lot and had plenty of classes. But there’s only so much time you can dedicate to the theories and subtleties of conjuring fire without taking a break. We used to do lots of things like that. They were silly but there really wasn’t much to do so you had to find stuff.” Trevelyan reached over and refilled her cup with the honeyed wine that Leliana had brought out for them. She inclined the bottle towards him when she had finished and he found himself nodding acceptance to a second glass. “Sometimes if we were particularly bored my friend and I would sneak to this window that overlooked the courtyard outside and watch the Templars do their training.”  
  
“What could two mages possibly get from watching Templars train?” Cassandra asked, catching the conversation as her on with Josephine hit a lull. Leliana giggled wickedly and answered for Trevelyan.  
  
“Because sometimes they might remove their armor and Templars are not built like mages.” Cassandra rolled her eyes, clearly let down by the reason the spymaster supposed and the fact that Trevelyan’s suppressed smile did little to contradict. Cullen felt his own ears turning red as he watched the subtle blush spread across the mage’s cheeks. It was strange to think of the Herald of Andraste as a blushing young woman sneaking looks at topless men. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders in mock seriousness.  
  
“I used to like to watch when it was raining because their boots would get filled with water and they’d have to take them off and empty them and,” she shrugged as she noticed the confused looks she was getting. “Well, I thought it was funny. Like I said there wasn’t a lot of entertainment.”  
  
“If I ever step in a puddle, Herald, I’ll be sure to send for you straight away,” Cullen said, a little surprised by himself. She smiled at him and Cullen found himself grinning in a way that felt particularly like an idiot. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and switched his attention to the contents of his cup.  
  
\--  
  
Cullen watched as the Tevinter mage slid himself into the seat next to the Herald. He bumped his side against hers and was rewarded with a broad smile. He didn’t even move over once she had acknowledged his presence. He stayed sitting close enough to her that he could whisper into her ear with little effort and pick food off of her plate. Cullen frowned as he watched, eventually forcing himself to look away when he saw the Herald reach up to wipe crumb from the man’s face. It was none of his business what—if anything—was going on. He repeated that to himself as he took a seat at a table by himself and went to work eating his breakfast as swiftly as possible. He had things to do—important things—and it wasn’t any of his business.  
  
“Oh, Commander, don’t sit by yourself when there’s plenty of space here with us,” Dorian called. Cullen took a breath and looked up. The mage was waving him over eagerly. Trevelyan didn’t look opposed.  
  
“I wouldn’t want to impose—“ He started but Dorian shook his head.  
  
“It’s not an imposition. Besides, you look like a sad little puppy over there and I can’t stand to see it. It’s turning me off my breakfast. Even more than my breakfast is turning me off my breakfast.” Cullen stood because he couldn’t really think of a way to deter the man. Dorian had proven if nothing else that he was determined and stubborn and used to getting his way. He was mostly done with his own food and he couldn’t imagine that Trevelyan and Dorian would take long if they were sharing a plate. There was a war room meeting scheduled any way so worse come to worse he could always use that as an excuse to leave. “There,” Dorian said once Cullen had gotten himself seated opposite the pair. “Not quite so much the puppy now.”  
  
“To be perfectly honest I’m not sure if you’re trying to insult me or not,” Cullen said wryly. It was so strange. He liked Dorian. He thought him a talented mage and from what he could tell a prime example that the stereotypes about magisters didn’t need to be true. The man was funny, if not a little inappropriate. The other day they had had a fine conversation about the various types of armors best suited for mages in combat. He didn’t understand why he was so irked by him this morning.

 

“It’s a compliment,” the Herald supplied. “Everyone likes puppies.” Dorian made a face.  
  
“Speak for yourself. Vile, manipulative creatures. Shitting wherever they like. And did I mention they smell?” Trevelyan was looking at him as if he had two heads. Cullen raised his eyebrows.  
  
“So, insulting me then. Do I really smell?” Dorian shrugged his shoulders and tore another piece from the Herald’s pastry.  
  
“You are Ferelden, dear man. I don’t blame you for it.” Trevelyan placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugher. “You’re a Marcher. Do you really think you smell any better?” She swatted his arm though based on the smile still on her face Cullen didn’t think she was any more insulted than he had been. “You should both be lucky if even an ounce of my musk rubs off on you.”  
  
“I’ll pass,” Cullen mumbled around a mouthful of food. When he saw Dorian throw his arm around the Herald in what he assumed was an action meant to rub his musk on her he averted his eyes. His stomach wasn’t taking the pasty very well. It felt tight and strange. As if there was a hot coal smoldering away in there.  
  
“For what it’s worth, Commander, I like puppies.” He looked back over and found himself laughing nervously at the Herald. The hot pit in his stomach wavered and was devoured by an anxious fluttering. A moment later it was replaced by a small feeling of dread. The irritation towards Dorian dawned on him. He stood abruptly.  
  
“If you’ll excuse me. I need to prepare for our meeting.” He left without waiting for either of their responses though he could hear Dorian remarking on how rude it was. Something about Fereldens not having any manners.  
  
He was jealous. Painfully and pitifully jealous.  
  
\--  
  
Familiarity was supposed to breed contempt. But the more he got to know the Inquisitor the more he found his heartbeat quickening at the sight of her, his tongue tying itself knots when he tried to speak to her, his body flushing at when she drew close to him. She was smart, kind, beautiful. He would look at her from across the war table. Watch the way the sun played on her hair, the way her body angled when she leaned against her staff, the way her lip looked as she chewed it in deliberation. He imagined his hands in her hair, on her body. His mouth on her lips, biting and tugging. He imagined a lot of things and none of them brought him any pride.  
  
He was capable during the day. He still commanded the soldiers with the level of skill and attention that he had been recruited for. With his soldiers his mind was at least occupied enough that he could push thoughts of her temporarily away. He wasn’t constantly catching himself wondering if she might like something or replaying a conversation with better input on his part. He worried for her when she was away but it was simple enough to convey that overt concern into a broader sense. She was the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, and the only one capable of closing the rifts.  
  
At night he was a different story. Sleep already eluded him and now he found himself thinking, dreaming, fantasizing about her. Sometimes, though it shamed him, he found solace in the thoughts of her. Even when he found himself with his hand under the sheets and the other covering his face it was a relief from what he could have been thinking about. It was a brief moment of peace to think of her hair spilled across his pillow, her eyes bright with affection as she looked up at him. Occasionally he thought he really did see affection in her eyes when she looked at him. More than likely it was merely pity that he was misconstruing. After all, she was surrounded by available men that made no secret of their admiration for her. Men who actually went out into battle with her, who protected her, who spent nights camped by her side. Against the likes of them what chance did he stand?

 

On bad nights—and on particularly bad days—he would imagine her with Dorian. Sometimes Blackwall or Iron Bull or Varric. Once with Sera though he had felt particularly guilty and shamed afterwards. He would think about their hands on her, strong and steady because none of them were going through withdrawals. He wondered how long he could maintain this idiotic infatuation. He wondered how long he could keep it a secret. Through all his stumbling and staring it was a wonder no one had already figured him out. He supposed they all just thought him a fool. Which he was. What could he offer her? What could he be to her? Nothing. Could she ever even look at him as more than Templar? More than one of the men that had kept her locked way? The answer seemed obvious enough. It didn’t stop him from hoping, dreaming, wanting.  
  
\--  
  
“I’m not sleeping with her, you know.” Cullen didn’t know what to say so he said nothing. He hadn’t been able to sleep so he had taken stroll around Skyhold that had wound up with him doing a quick round with the sparring dummy. The tavern had been loud and warm but loud and warm wasn’t really what Cullen was looking for. He felt edgy and just wanted to spend enough energy to make him fall asleep. “I’ve heard people whisper about it. Thought it was good fun at first. The Herald of Andraste and an archon from Tevinter, how scandalous. It’s just… not very funny to me right now.” They had come back earlier that day from doing something with Dorian’s father. The Inquisitor had been tight mouthed on the details and no one had really seen the need to push. It was clearly private between Dorian and his family, and clearly it had not gone well.  
  
Cullen hadn’t seen or heard from Dorian since they got back but had overheard the Inquisitor mentioning that he had holed himself up in the tavern and didn’t seem like he would be moving any time soon. That was hours ago though. By the way he was swaying on his feet Cullen could only assume that Dorian had kept his word on that front. The man was significantly plastered. “It’s not my business what two people do in private,” Cullen managed to say. “It isn’t anyone’s.”  
  
“No, no it isn’t.” He thought he heard a strain in Dorian’s voice but couldn’t be sure. It seemed too uncharacteristic. “But for you I make an exception. Because, well, I thought you’d like to know. And… because I’m drunk and I like you even if you dress and smell and bark like a dog.” The man underscored his point by barking twice at Cullen. “Can you explain to me what is it with Fereldens and dogs?” Cullen wanted to point out that he had never once initiated a conversation about dogs with Dorian. It was always the mage. The man seemed too far gone though and Cullen didn’t wish to seem snappish. Dorian leaned heavily on the training dummy, his legs unsteady beneath him and his eyes closing. Cullen frowned and placed an arm around him while throwing one of Dorian’s over his shoulders. He held him around the wrist so that the arm didn’t fall off. With a heft he managed to get him off the dummy and—mostly—onto his feet.  
  
“Dogs are loyal and strong. I think that’s what most people like about them,” he responded as he began walking them back to Skyhold proper. He would get Dorian to his room and then go to bed himself. There was no way he was just going to leave him passing out in the grass for anyone to find.  
  
“Hmph,” Dorian grunted, regaining a bit of himself and taking a few helpful steps on his own. “You really are a dog then. With your big puffy fur thing and your big innocent eyes.”  
  
“I’m hardly innocent,” he grunted as they began to mount the stairs.  
  
“Woof, Commander,” the mage responded in what Cullen thought was supposed to be a suggestive tone. He wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t even going to think about it. A soldier standing guard at the top of the stairs made a move to take Dorian from Cullen’s grasp. The Commander waved him away. It wouldn’t do to just pass the man off as if he were a pile of dirty clothes that needed to be carried somewhere. He had started this. He could finish it.

 

“Where’s your room?” Cullen asked. Dorian pulled himself straight and sent a squint eyed glance around Skyhold’s main hall. After what seemed a moment of deliberate thought he erupted into a fit of laughter.  
  
“Just find me any bed, Commander, I’m sure the occupant won’t mind. Remember, I’m gorgeous. It would be like a gift really.”  
  
“Dorian?” Trevelyan’s concerned voice came from the entrance of the hall. “Cullen?” This time it was confused. Cullen managed to turn them a bit so they could face her as she walked over. Dorian tried to pull from Cullen’s grasp but he was fairly certain that the mage would fall face first onto the floor if that happened. Sober Dorian would greatly mourn the damage so Cullen kept a firm grip. Trevelyan got close enough that the Tevinter was able to throw the arm not around Cullen’s shoulders around hers and drag her to them. “I was looking for you,” she said, her voice muffled as she fought to free her face from Dorian’s chest. “I got up to pee and when I came back you were gone.”  
  
“He wandered outside for some fresh air I assume and found me,” Cullen supplied. “He seemed like he was about done so I thought I’d help him back to his room.” He tried to ignore that his heart was picking up its pace or that his ears felt a little hot or that he was disastrously close to her body since Dorian had pulled her into this makeshift group hug.  
  
“Look at us. Three friends standing together drunk in this grand hall in the middle of the night.”  
  
“I don’t think Cullen is drunk, Dorian,” Trevelyan said with a smile. Dorian frowned and opened his eyes as wide as they would go to investigate the Commander’s face.  
  
“Well, we are three friends at least standing in this grand hall in the middle of the night, aren’t we?” Cullen nodded.  
  
“Yes that much is true.” The answer seemed to please the drunken mage. He pulled on Trevelyan again and Cullen jolted as she wound up placing a hand on his chest for balance. He hoped she couldn’t feel his heart. He hoped his knees weren’t about to give out and send them all toppling over.  
  
“Three friends,” Dorian repeated. “We should all get married. The three of us. Something for everyone then, yes? Chess and magic and breasts and asses. It would be quite the good time.” He paused and blinked as if suddenly struck by something that was wrong with what he was saying. “Mages and Templars are allowed to marry, right?”  
  
“Cullen’s not a Templar anymore,” the Inquisitor supplied. Cullen judged that she must have been at least tipsy from her evening spent with Dorian since she didn’t really seem to bat an eye at the nonsense he was spewing. He supposed it also explained the pleasant color on her cheeks. If only he could claim the same for his own likely red face.  
  
“There you go! Happy endings all around!” Trevelyan managed to wriggle free of Dorian’s grasp as he started into a rousing song in his native language. Cullen wondered if it was a song typically sung at weddings or if it was simply a drinking song. Trevelyan opened a door and gestured for Cullen to follow with Dorian.  
  
“It’s a good thing you arrived when you did,” he said in what he hoped was a conversational tone.  
  
“Was he getting handsy? He was talking about your butt earlier. Though, not to burst your bubble, he was talking about a lot of butts tonight.”  
  
“And mine stood out in the conversation?” He shook his head and grimaced when he realized what he had managed to respond with. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He should be able to talk to a woman even one as wonderful and beautiful as the Inquisitor. She was unattainable, after all. Shouldn’t that make it easier? Instead of wheeling around on him in disgust she laughed.  
  
“I don’t know. I guess so. Sorry, that was a weird thing to bring up. He made me drink with him. And I am nowhere on the level of drinking that he is.”  
  
“Light weight?”

 

“No weight. Here this is him.” She stopped and opened the door to Dorian’s chambers. Cullen hated to admit it but the man’s quarters did smell nicer than his. With little help from the suddenly quiet Dorian—he picked an opportune moment to pass out—Cullen put him into his bed. Trevelyan removed the man’s boots and belt and Cullen looked away as she stripped him further. He had said they hadn’t slept together but it seemed impossible that she would be so confidant and casual about undressing him if they hadn’t. He felt her hand on his arm and turned back to her. Dorian was covered with a blanket and seemed no worse for wear. “Thank you,” she whispered. Cullen felt himself tremble.  
  
“I couldn’t just leave him.” She smiled at him and he saw that look he could almost mistake for affection.  
  
“I guess sometimes Templars do watch out for mages.”

 

“I’m not a Templar anymore.” His eyes drifted to her lips as she bit down on the corner of her bottom one. He noticed they were standing close together, closer than was necessary, closer than was probably appropriate. He wanted to kiss her. Maker, how he wanted to kiss her. She was looking up at him and if he hadn’t known better he would have thought she wanted him to kiss her. “I… can walk you to your door if you’d like.” He swallowed and stepped back. He saw her adjust her footing and it almost seemed as if she had been standing straighter, taller for some reason.  
  
“Thank you, Commander,” she said. She looked back once at Dorian and then proceeded to exit, shutting the door quietly behind her. It wasn’t a long walk to the door that led to the stairs that led to the actual door to her quarters but Cullen wasn’t going to invite himself along that far. He was a fool but not a complete fool.  
  
“Good night, Inquisitor,” he said quickly turning on his heel and cursing every fiber of his being for the way he felt.  
  
“Cullen,” she said quickly and he stopped just as quickly. He turned hopefully, his chest hammering and his ears hot. He watched as she toyed with the wrap around her hand that hid the anchor. “Um,” she stumbled. “Thank you. For taking care of Dorian.”  
  
“It wasn’t a problem,” he answered. He tried to ignore the deflated feeling in his heart. He was about to turn to leave again when she took a step towards him, placed her hand on his chest again for balance, and leaned up to kiss his lightly on his cheek. His mouth went dry.  
  
“Good night… Cullen,” she said with a tight smile on her face before disappearing through the door. He stood there for a moment, maybe several, and waited for the room to stop spinning.  
  
\--  
  
He seated himself on the bench outside the sparring ring and took a long drink of the water he had placed there. The Inquisitor dropped herself down next to him on the bench, bringing her legs up underneath her so that her knee bounced against his thigh. His breath hitched and he wondered if she noticed. She didn’t move it, in fact she seemed to press closer, so Cullen assumed she didn’t realize. Or maybe because she was a normal human being she wasn’t obsessed with the notion of this slight touch between them.  
  
“So, is your answer to every enemy just to freeze their feet to the ground?” He asked. From her place beside him she smiled brightly.  
  
“Yes. It’s a good strategy I think. Plenty of time to run away.”  
  
“Do you spend a lot of your time running away in battles?”

 

“Oh, it’s the only way I know to fight.” She leaned in, a hand raised to cover her mouth from prying eyes. “I’m a terrible coward,” she stage whispered to him. He ignored the goosebumps and smiled.  
  
“I’ll keep that to myself. It wouldn’t be good for morale.” She laughed and he chuckled, too distracted by the fact that she hadn’t moved since leaning in.  
  
“I’m just not very muscly. Everyone’s muscly. Even Dorian is muscly and he’s a mage. We’re supposed to be soft comrades in arms. So much for a mage brotherhood.”  
  
“Your body is fine.” She looked at him with raised eyebrows and an intrigued grin. His hand found its way quickly to the back of his neck. “I mean, no. You aren’t muscular. I mean, but, you know. Uh, it’s… that’s why we’re training.” He risked a glance over to find her biting her bottom lip. She was looking at him or rather parts of him. Her gaze flicked up from his arms to his chest to his face. He felt on fire from the looks. Wondered what she was looking at. She blinked and looked at his hair, a mischievous smile growing.  
  
“Your hair gets curly when you sweat.” Self-consciously Cullen ran his hand through it to try and tame whatever was going awry. “Is that why Varric calls you Curly?”  
  
“Yes. I … put a lot of,” he sighed, “effort into my hair nowadays. It wasn’t the case when I was in Kirkwall. My hair is… terribly curly actually. Horrible, horrible hair.” She pulled her legs beneath her, the knee that had been touching him now used to push herself up. She pressed a hand to what he imagined was the out of place hair, flattening it back as best she could.  
  
“I’m sure it looks fine.” She grinned down at him. “You look fine.”  
\--  
  
Cullen often walked the battlements when he was having trouble sleeping or simply needed to clear his head. The air was cold, the view impressive, and he knew the patrols routes well enough that he could avoid bumping into anyone. Needless to say he was surprised when he saw the outline of a person leaning over and staring up the sky. Needless to say he was even more surprised when he realized that it was the Inquisitor.  
  
“Is everything all right?” He asked when they had both seen each other. He cursed that he wasn’t a suave talker. He must have been so boring to her compared to any of the others.  
  
“Mhm, I just… couldn’t sleep. My room’s too big.” She shrugged and turned around so that her back was facing the view she had previously been admiring. “I know that probably sounds weird.” He shook his head to reassure her and took up a position next to her. “I don’t know why a big room makes me uncomfortable but being outside is calming.”  
  
“I’m sorry the Circle has marked you so.” And he was. He regretted the years he had spent mired in self-pity and hatred towards mages. He had learned in Kirkwall that it was wrong but it had come too late. Cassandra had assured him that one man would not have made a difference in that situation but he had been Knight-Captain, not just one man. He could have and should have made the difference. If the mages hadn’t been so terrified, so abused… He supposed it was useless thinking in such ways. That time had passed. It was just more reason he needed to make a difference now.  
  
“It marked you too.” He didn’t say anything and looked away from her. He was embarrassed that he had needed to tell her about his lyrium addiction and withdrawal. It was the right thing to do but it still made him feel small and incompetent. “Mages and Templars. Templars and mages.”

 

“Indeed,” he responded. “I asked to be a Templar though. You didn’t ask to be a mage.”  
  
“When we got the word that the Circles were disbanding I remember… not believing it. I didn’t love the Circle. I didn’t love that I’d been carted off there by my family. But I couldn’t really imagine anything else.” Cullen looked over at she spoke. She was just staring at her feet, her face serious, her body tense. He wondered why she was sharing this with him. Did she trust him? He thought she might. Their friendship had grown over the months. “There was an older mage sitting by me and she started crying. She just kept repeating that the world hated mages.” She looked up and in the starlight and watch fires he could see her eyes shining bright and wet. “I think she was scared to go outside.” He placed a hand on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around herself.  
  
“We’re told a fear of magic is healthy. I think it does as much harm as good in some cases. They go overboard. They see blood magic and abominations in children that have just touched their magic for the first time.” He thought of Meredith and of the atrocities against mages he had let go on beneath his nose. Many had been hidden, he comforted himself in that, but there were enough times where he should have known. Should have said something. Should have believed the mage over the Templar.  
  
“What does it feel like when you use your powers against a mage? To nullify their magic or silence them?” Beneath his hand he felt her trembling. It could have been the cold. It was more than likely the conversation. He shivered as well.  
  
“I always assumed that it felt the same as when a mage used magic themselves.” He tried to keep images of what had happened during Uldred’s uprising out of his mind. Cold flashes seeped into his spine as he felt his blood burn for lyrium suddenly as if recalling the feel of his lost talents.  
  
“Magic feels good. It feels warm and complete.”  
  
“It doesn’t feel like that,” he admitted. He had never had a conversation like this with a mage before. He supposed that it would have felt too taboo to discuss this sort of thing when he was actually Templar.  
  
“I’m sorry.” She placed one of her hands on top of his. “I shouldn’t bring stuff like this up. You aren’t a Tempalr. I shouldn’t—“  
  
“It’s natural to have questions.” He focused on the feeling of her hand on his, suddenly steady and still. It made him feel grounded and calm. Warm. He wondered if it was some latent magic in her or if he was just so far gone in his infatuation. “You’re still a mage, after all.” She looked up at him with wide eyes, searching his face it seemed for something.  
  
“I’m still a mage,” she repeated.

 

\--  
  
“Could you ever think of me as anything more than a mage?” She asked suddenly. Cullen swallowed, faltered in his step. She was looking at him and she seemed nervous. His brain seemed to lag behind the conversation as it desperately tried to connect what she was saying to what he wanted her to be saying.  
  
“I could,” he responded. “I mean, I do… think of you. And what I might say in those sort of situation.” What he might say to foul it up was more like it. He glanced at her timidly, still not quite sure she was saying what he thought. She couldn’t be. It was madness to think so. But the way she was looking at him. Hopeful and maybe just as scared as he was. Well, probably not just as scared because he rather felt like he might piss his pants.  
  
“What’s stopping you?” She breathed optimistically. He took a step closer and sighed.  
  
“You’re the Inquisitor.” He listed most importantly. “We’re at war.” He ticked off second. Each reason seemed to somehow bring him closer to her though not farther away. His mind boggled at the tricks his body was playing on him. “And you…” He started, then lowering his voice continued, “I didn’t think it was possible.” If there had been any question of her intentions, if there had been the possibility that he had misheard and made an ass out of himself this was the moment she would tell. It was convenient at least. He could promptly throw himself from the battlements to prevent a life lived in humiliation and mockery.  
  
“And yet I’m still here.” She bit her lip as he loomed closer. The sight of it sent his blood running hot and wild. This might have just been another of his dreams, but if so it was the most vivid and wonderful he had had yet.  
  
“So you are…” His voice was low. She had her back up against the stone, holding the edges as she leaned her face towards his. “It seems too much to ask.” Her body was angled so that if he just stepped a bit closer he might be holding it perfectly against his own. His heart beat blotted out the sound of anything else but her and him. “But I want to—“ He closed his eyes as he reached towards her lips with his. The last thing he saw was that she had stopped biting it. As if she really did want this too…  
  
“Commander!” Cullen jumped back. It probably looked extremely suspicious. Behind him Trevelyan had turned her head as if deeply engrossed in whatever might be going on in the scenic view behind them. “You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.” Cullen’s heart was still pounding, his blood still flowing, his whole person poised for this moment he had been waiting for. He realized then that it must be real. He would never have a fantasy that they were interrupted. Not like this at any rate. His pulse seemed to increase at the realization. He rounded on the soldier.

 

“What?” He barked.  
  
“Sister Leliana’s report. You wanted it delivered ‘without delay’.” Cullen watched the soldier’s eyes travel from his angry face to the uncomfortable Inquisitor to the limited amount of space that existed between them. Something seemed to click for him. Cullen knew the Inquisition soldiers weren’t morons. “Or… to your office… right…” Though as the commander he dreaded the gossip that would likely bloom from the incident as a man he couldn’t be bothered to care.  
  
“If you need to—“ She began, but there was disappointment in her voice. Resignation. She wanted this. She really did. He grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her. Maybe too roughly, too eagerly but he couldn’t help it. When they broke for air the moment of bravado he had managed faded. He felt like a trembling boy in her arms.  
  
“I’m sorry…” He wasn’t. Why did he say he was? He was thrilled. “That was…” He cleared his throat. “Um… really nice.” It seemed like he was back to being the eloquent man he had always been. Lovely. How he had managed to entice a woman like the Inquisitor seemed beyond his capability to reason. She smiled at him and it seemed she was as pleased as he was.  
  
“You know, Commander, I believe you just kissed me. But I really can’t be sure as it’s all kind of a blur. I think you need to do it again.” He laughed, comforted and leaned himself back in, his body pressing hers against the battlements.  
  
“I can do that.”


End file.
